


a corner with me and you

by pinksunlight



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Coming of Age, Feelings Realization, Found Family, Getting Together, M/M, Slice of Life, and be Out There, bc the johnmarkten dynamics are too good not to :((, follows them through the years, i need to stop writing canon compliant BUT i started this months ago and i just want it to finish, ish?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29045046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinksunlight/pseuds/pinksunlight
Summary: Because it's my dream,is what Johnny always says when he's asked why he gave up life in America to pursue a career path in Korea that may or may not come to fruition. When that dream became something more than just a stage and a mic in his hand, Johnny wouldn't be able to tell you.(Well, that's not the whole truth.)
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 18
Kudos: 52





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> funny story, i had nearly half of this fic done and then i got a new laptop and in the midst of transferring over my data, a lot of my word files got irreversibly corrupted :) i tried everything :) and it didn't help :) i'd copied like 2000 words of the fic into a draft on here and i rmbred that so at least i salvaged a little. but i had close to 20k haha :) so now im just. rewriting. mostly bc i want to have this johnten out there. anyway.

Johnny officially graduates from high school in the summer of 2012, grey rented suit hanging hot and heavy on his shoulders underneath the Chicago sun.

He gets exactly two weeks to exchange goodbyes with everyone and everything he’s ever loved or known and it takes sitting in his car in the Target parking lot on what he knows will be his last grocery run for a long time to realize that he’s kind of overwhelmed. He’s leaving his entire _life_ behind, for god’s sake, but he supposes that he’s always known it wasn’t going to be easy.

 _Isn’t_ going to be easy.

Before he knows it, it’s the end of the week and the Suh household has an empty fridge, but Johnny won’t be filling it up this time around. He stands in his empty room looking around one last time with a hand on his suitcase. It still hasn’t fully sunk in that he’s being whipped away to Korea, a country that still doesn’t feel like home even after years of visiting during summer vacations for painfully intense training session, completely immersed in the language, the food, the people.

He’s going to be a trainee full-time. He’s going to follow his dreams.

Dream or not, it’s hard to calm the coils of anxiety in his stomach as he pauses at his doorframe, patting it with a shaky hand and thanking it for keeping him safe all these years. Vulnerability is etched into the four walls in a way that he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to imitate again, but he thinks that that’s okay. That it isn’t bad, necessarily, to be forced into growing up like this.

One last look, one last swipe of the finger where he’d carved his name into the side of his dresser years ago, and then he closes the door behind him, wheeling his meagre suitcase outside to the car where his parents are waiting.

There are too many people at the airport, voices overlapping until they become unpleasant white noise, but Johnny forces himself to remember this moment—when he can distinctly hear his mother calling his name above so many others, when he turns around and it doesn’t take more than half a second for his eyes to land on her. _You walk so fast, in a hurry to run away? Give me a hug, John-ah._

It’s there, in her embrace (he’ll always think of it that way, no matter how much taller than her he gets), that he lets himself close his eyes and feel the prickly longing for something he knows he only has for a few more fleeting moments. He meets his father’s eyes overtop his mother’s head, and he’s smiling at Johnny with shining eyes.

When they pull apart, they both hold either of his hands in both of theirs. It feels safe and warm. _We don’t know if it’s possible for you to make us prouder than we already are, but we’ve never been ones to underestimate you. We love you. We’ll miss you._

An only child all his life, pampered and praised for every mundane thing he’s ever done, he thinks that this is it—this is his shot to give his parents something really, something they can really, _truly_ be proud of.

Johnny puts on a brave smile, and just like that, in the blink of an eye, his hands are cold and he’s walking down a terminal with blurred vision despite having his glasses on, pulling the remnants of what he calls home behind him in a worn carry-on.

The path stretches long before him. He doesn’t look back.

At 17 years old, Johnny comes to know Mark Lee.

He’s a younger trainee who joins the company only days after Johnny finally touches base in Seoul and organizes his clothes in a dorm room he knows he’ll eventually learn to call him, and he’s got embers for eyes that flare up into flames when he gets particularly passionate about something. It’s a little startling for a 13-year-old, but Johnny doesn’t really have a lot of experience with kids so who is he to judge?

(“I’m almost 14, actually.” “Yeah? And I’m almost 18, what’s your point, dude?”)

It’s kind of endearing, actually. _He’s_ endearing. Because Johnny has never had a younger sibling before, but he feels the image of this awkward, skinny boy with a shy smile and silky hair being tucked into a special corner of his heart. He promises himself not to get too attached, because it’s not exactly a secret that EXO could’ve debuted earlier that year with 13 members instead of the now 12, and he’s still recovering from the anger and frustration that came from letting an opportunity like that slip right from his fingers, from behind left behind, forcibly ripped from the people he dared to imagine a future with.

But this Mark Lee kid is persistent, whether he knows it or not (if Johnny had to guess, probably not).

Johnny finds that he likes Mark’s laugh, and he likes being the reason behind it, too, especially because he’s so generous with it, giggles endlessly pouring out of him at every other word Johnny says. He’s clumsy everywhere except where it counts, and this, too, is hard not to love.

Mark asks Johnny hesitantly to teach him how to make ramen, but his rapping technique is praised by people who have the most significant kind of power in the company. Mark wears pajama pants that belonged to his older brother and trips over the ends sometimes as he’s walking, but he dances with unmatched passion and a willingness to learn and perfect as he goes. Mark pokes himself in the eye with his own toothbrush far too often in the mornings when he’s not wearing his glasses and struggling to stay awake, but there’s a word that trails behind him like a cape of sorts: _potential_ , and everyone is aware of it.

Mark Lee is 13 (almost 14) when Johnny decides that maybe, just this once, he can let himself get attached. So, he teases Mark and tells him jokes and listens to him talk about back home after they’ve finished training, no matter how hard his eyelids fight to close. He becomes a _hyung_ , an older brother, and he settles that he likes to hear the word coming from Mark.

Some time in 2013, a lot of things end up happening at once.

For once, Mark has the misfortune of meeting a new trainee who goes by the name of Lee Donghyuck and is, apparently, the devil incarnate. (Johnny’s seen the kid—he’s basically an overgrown teddy bear with a little bit of a sharp tongue, but Johnny lets Mark complain nonetheless.)

“Johnny, he’s a menace. Like, a real-life spawn of satan. I can’t deal with him!” Mark whines from his bed. He called Johnny over to surprise him with the song he’d finished learning on the guitar (one that Johnny had casually mentioned he’d liked many once a week or two ago—god, _Mark_ Lee) but the conversation has quickly taken a turn.

“Sometimes you’ll have to get along with people you don’t like, man,” Johnny tries reasoning. It’s been months, and slipping into the role of an all-knowing, older, more experienced trainee still feels kind of awkward. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“But—” Mark’s face scrunches up in distaste and he tightens his hold on the guitar. Johnny is drawn to the way his small fingers rest over the strings so naturally. It’s an apt image to slot under the description of being a trainee, he thinks, this mastery that’s required of them from such an early age. It fits even more neatly because it’s Mark, and the thought has Johnny feeling just a touch sad.

“But,” he starts again, “what if we, you know, debut together or something.”

And this—this is the other thing that happens. Or, well, has been happening.

Practice rooms begin filling up with more than just breathless panting and the squeaking of shoes against wooden floors. Talk goes around of the SM Rookies, an officially showcased group of rookies made public to the world.

It’s exciting because they all know what it means—going public as a rookie is a near guarantee of debuting eventually. It’s the next rung on the ladder to success, but they’re all well informed that the ladder has a limited weight capacity.

Johnny has turned a deaf ear to most of the talk because he knows not to hope for much, not so soon after he’s just been thrown full throttle into the full-time trainee life, but letting his mind wander occasionally to the sheer possibilities that such a team entails is only natural, no matter how hard he tries to stay focused and work as hard as he always has.

It weighs heavy on their minds and Johnny has noticed the desire ramping up among every single trainee, the whispered promises of realizing dreams together, and, in some cases, the wary looks thrown between trainees who don’t get along, an unspoken _what if?_ hanging between them like a death sentence.

Johnny has just turned 18, and he likes to think that he knows this 14-year-old Mark better than when he first arrived in the heat of the summer so many months ago. He catches the way he’s chewing at his lips, crinkling his nose to keep the thick glasses from slipping down his nose, and he lets himself be known by this kid he’s grown so incredibly fond of.

“If it happens, it happens. Hyung is here though, don’t you trust me to be there for you?”

The walls around them suddenly resemble his room back in Chicago as Mark looks at him from under his fringe, and the worries seem to melt off his face. Johnny wonders when he became _this_ for Mark, the person from whom all it took were a few words (that Johnny never knows are the right words to begin with) to feel like everything was okay again.

He feels oddly exposed like this, his words still hanging in the air between them. It’s too obvious by the way he calls himself hyung and asks for Mark’s trust and talks about the two of them like they’ll be together for a long time, and he almost goes to take it back before reminding himself that Mark Lee is the exception.

He wants to attach himself to Mark Lee because he knows that even if it ends in separation, it’ll be a privilege to have known him, to have been someone to him. The cape he wears is not just for show, and Johnny knows this perhaps better than anyone else.

“I trust you.” It’s soft and Mark can’t exactly look him in the eyes, but Johnny knows he means it because there are no _um_ s or _like_ s or _dude_ s thrown in.

“Alright,” he replies, reclining back so he’s staring at the ceiling with a small smile on his face, “good. Now play me that song.”

There is one more big thing that happens in 2013, and it leaves Johnny wondering how many exceptions he’ll allow himself to make, exactly.

He introduces himself as Ten in stiff Korean, hands tightly clutching a duffel bag that’s as beat up as the shoes he’s wearing. Johnny is the only one who opens the door on him, and he stays the only one standing there, taking in the sight before him and wondering if he’s really that intimidating. Ten’s feet don’t stop moving, innate restlessness somehow heightened by Johnny’s presence, probably, because he’s aware that he doesn’t exactly make a great first impression.

Not for the first time, he wishes he had someone more people-friendly by his side, like Yuta (who, admittedly, is still getting the hang of Korean, but is miles ahead Johnny in the making friends department already).

“No Korean?” Johnny asks as nicely as he can in English, feeling a little better when relief colours Ten’s features at the way he pronounces the words, an indication of a native speaker. His grip on the bag loosens.

“I’m from Thailand,” Ten explains, clearly more confident in the language to the point where it takes Johnny a few seconds to realize he has a small accent. He steps inside when Johnny gestures for him to do so, closing the door as Ten toes off his shoes. “But I speak some English. Not the best, but good enough.”

Johnny, inexplicably, feels the need to quickly follow-up and say that not, his English is more than fine, especially when it’s his second language (the feeling is revisited when he later learns that Ten has actually learned three other languages, and counting, besides his own). God knows all those years of Spanish he learned in school have only left him with a few words and very basic conjugations here and there.

Ten, though, is clearly proficient, not once seeming to have to think too hard before the words leave his mouth.

It’s the first time Johnny thinks, _Impressive._ It’s not the last, by a long shot.

Tamping his thoughts down, he clears his throat and sweeps an arm out to the dorms mock-grandiosely, “Well, meet your new home. There’s usually more people here, so this is kind of the cleanest you’ll see it.”

Johnny watches Ten take it all in, the ratty couch that has never been cleaned in all the years he’s seen it, the Leaning Tower of Pizza Boxes in the corner, the thick curtains that are always partially drawn, never letting too much light in, and he’s surprised to see how, despite it all, Ten visibly lights up.

“I like it,” he finally says with a grin, then turns to Johnny. “Where should I put my stuff?”

It takes a couple days of coaxing to get Ten to completely break out of his shell, but Johnny can see when he does that everyone will love him. He’s got this pull to him, charming in a way that’s real enough to establish common ground, but novel enough to draw people to him where they intend to be drawn in or not. He learns that Ten’s real name is Chittapon Leechaiyapornkul and that he has a younger sister, an amateur history in the entertainment industry, and an affinity for all things artistic.

A week into knowing him, Johnny thinks that he’s found a best friend unlike any best friend he had back in Chicago, and it’s one late night when they’re up in the living room exchanging stories about home and aspirations for the future that Johnny finds another corner in his heart, somewhere beside Mark, for Chittapon Leechaiyapornkul, his second exception.

Chicago is different from Seoul.

Well, really, America is different from Korea. There are a lot of differences that Johnny has grown familiar with, learned to adapt to.

After years of only visiting his mother country during the summers, Johnny learns that the seasons change so suddenly in Korea that it’s hard to keep up. He doesn’t know if it’s because he spends the majority of his days spent locked in the SM practice rooms, eyes never leaving his figure in the mirror to stray out the window and watch the leaves change colour, or if he’s just not all that observant.

Whenever he steps outside, the air has changed, and Johnny learns to live like life is passing him by.

There are other more culturally oriented differences like the catering towards couples and emphasis on special holidays. Humility is something Johnny has to drill into himself. Bowing at a perfect 90-degree angle has to replace the casual nod of his head or wave of the hand. When he refers to something he wants to do, is passionate about, he has to choose his words carefully.

“I want to get better at dancing” becomes “I have a lot of greed for dancing”, and that’s just the way it is here, Johnny knows that.

There are less rules and levels of intimacy aren’t defined by one’s relationship to another, which takes a while to get used to because Johnny grew up in Chicago, of all places, and the only intimacy he’s known between friends is a fist bump or pulling someone into those not-really-hugs where only their shoulders touch. He sees the discomfort in Mark, too, and often tells the others to lay off a bit.

“It’s just how it is here, though,” someone tells him defensively, “he has to get used to it eventually.”

“Maybe he will, or maybe he just isn’t comfortable with being touched, cultural differences aside. It doesn’t matter, does it? I’m asking you to do something that will make him feel more comfortable here,” Johnny reasons calmly. He never tells Mark, but he thinks the younger boy figures it out by the grateful looks he sends his way the next day.

Johnny, contrary to the intimidating appearance he naturally gives off (and often purposefully enhances), quite enjoys the closeness. Not that he’d ever admit it, but at his core he’s really just a lover. It was harder to be so expressive back home so it’s a breath of fresh air, but he’s still nothing compared to the others. He’s not as touchy, but he doesn’t mind being touched.

Ten is not much of a toucher either, which surprises Johnny.

“I thought Thai culture was kind of similar to Korea in that aspect, though.” Johnny says one day when they’re sitting in the practice room after three consecutive hours of dancing. The music is still playing in the back and sunlight streams in through the usually dark room. A couple of stray locks of fading golden hair on Ten’s head catch in the light.

“It is,” Ten agrees, thinking for a second, and Johnny can tell he’s figuring out how to say it exactly. “That’s why I never fit in with my friends there, either. I think. I don’t mind it, but it’s not my, uh, you know those things?”

He scrunches up his eyebrows and then exhales in frustration. Johnny wonders if he’d be able to survive—no, thrive, like Ten is without having a single person around who spoke the language he’s most comfortable with or even having a good grasp on Korean. It’s admirable. _Impressive_.

“Your favourite ways of showing affection?” Johnny supplies. Ten nods absently, still racking his brain for what he’s trying to say.

Then, he slaps his knee and his eyes light up, a warm chocolate in the sunlight. “Love language! It’s not my love language.”

“Oh, yeah. It’s not mine either, I think,” Johnny replies, splaying his hands out on the floor so he can feel the music vibrate underneath his fingertips. Ten notices and does the same, and then moves his hand closer so he can touch the ring on Johnny’s finger with his pinky. “So don’t worry about not fitting in with me, we’re good together.”

And then, Johnny lets out an awkward laugh that Ten doesn’t notice because it probably didn’t register as sounding a little off to him. Ten’s English is great, but sometimes he’ll miss the little things.

Here’s another thing that Johnny isn’t really used to: having thoughts of blatant appreciation for his friends. He isn’t stingy with compliments, but to express heartful things or even think them was a bit of a foreign idea to Johnny (quite literally in this sense) when he first let himself start feeling it all.

He’s caught himself looking at Ten over the past few months, thinking things he’s never thought so deeply about when it came to any of his other friends.

Thoughts about how sharp Ten is, learning so many languages and continuously brushing up and improving his proficiency in each one. He always seems to be one step ahead of Johnny despite being a year younger, and there’s always a solution to any problem ready in Ten’s hands, practical and effective as can be.

He’s not just intelligent, he’s funny, too, somehow sharing the same exact humour code as Johnny, and he’ll find himself in stitches all too often while talking to him. He’s attractive, with clear eyes, an angular nose, pretty lips. His singing voice is just as attractive, a beautiful contrast to his speaking voice. Sometimes, Johnny will be sitting next to Ten with his headphones on and he’ll pause his music when he hears Ten singing just to hear his voice.

He dances like a god, draws like Picasso, and he’s just—real. He’s Ten. He’s got a positive attitude but isn’t overly bubbly. In fact, he’s prone to bouts of negativity where he’ll get in his own head. He wears hoodies and sweatpants and likes jewelry but doesn’t wear it much because of how much he has to move around all day long (professionalism is his middle name).

There’s a passion and intensity and dedication like no one else that Johnny finds in Ten, and it’s a strange feeling to see so much in someone, but Johnny chalks it all up to Ten being his best friend, the both of them having a unique sort of connection.

Johnny Suh from Chicago would never openly admit to feeling so… soft, for a lack of better words, towards a friend. He’d be too cool and obsessed with some strange idea of masculinity. But Suh Johnny from Seoul? Suh _Youngho_ from Seoul? He doesn’t have to hard of a time. It’s nice, he thinks, to be able to openly express how he feels.

Ten is deserving of the praise, and maybe Johnny can’t place his minor embarrassment aside for long enough to say it to his face, but he has no qualms about turning to other curious trainees and telling them what Ten is like, how crazy good he is at what he does.

Crazy is a good word for it.

On December 2nd, 2013, Ten wakes Johnny up on his day off.

The rumours of the SM Rookies have died down because of a lack of results, but that doesn’t stop Johnny from working himself until he’s worn down to the bone. So yeah, blame him for being grumpy on his first day off in what feels like years.

“Fuck off, Ten, I’m exhausted,” he grumbles from under the covers, but they’re quickly torn off by the other boy. When Johnny rolls over in bed, he jerks back a little, definitely more awake now that Ten is right there, crouching beside his bed so they’re face to face.

“I’ve never seen snow before, Johnny.”

Johnny grunts. “And what do you want me to do about that?”

He sits up in bed, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on the top bunk, and takes in Ten who’s adjusted to sitting cross-legged on the floor. He’s wearing his glasses and a trademark hoodie and sweatpants combination, silver chain dangling from his neck and ears filled with his piercings. He looks good, Johnny knows how much he likes it when he can wear all his jewelry.

“Nothing, dumbass,” Ten rolls his eyes. Johnny thinks teaching him profanity was a good idea because their conversations are oh so much more colourful now. “You don’t have to, look outside.”

Johnny leans forward to peep out the window, blanket falling away from his bare torso so he’s exposed to the cold, and sure enough, it’s snowing. The first snow. _Ten’s_ first snow. Johnny runs a hand through his hair, suddenly excited and much more awake. He turns to grin lazily at Ten, who grins right back.

“Well, are you coming with us or what?” Mark pokes his head through the door, already decked out in a thick jacket and a thicker hat.

Ten gives him a onceover and frowns, “Put on a scarf, Mark, it’s gonna be cold.”

“I’m Canadian, hyung, it’s fine,” Mark says haughtily, but he scowls when Johnny gives him a pointed look and turns on his heel, grumbling as he goes to put on a scarf.

“Puberty,” Ten mutters, rolling his eyes. Then, he gets up, dusting his pants off before holding out a hand to Johnny. “Coming?”

And, well, how could Johnny possibly say no to a day out with his two favourite people? He throws his blankets off and lets Ten pull him up.

Ten is underwhelmingly excited at the sight of the snow as they amble on to a nearby restaurant, and Johnny is not having it.

“Dude, aren’t you gonna take a video or picture or something?” Johnny can practically feel his reservoir of energy draining, too used to feeding off of other people to keep himself filled to the brim. Ten has refused to fit the stereotypical giddy image of someone experiencing their first white winter, and Johnny is about to ask him if he’s just being spiteful, but then Ten tilts his head up to look at him and there are very visible bags under his eyes, a few pimples running along his temples, and Johnny deflates a little.

Ten looks tired.

Because of course, they’ve _all_ been busting their asses, it hasn’t just been him. Even Mark, who’d started sharing stories at lightning speeds about winters in Canada, doesn’t have as much of a bounce in his step.

“I’m excited,” Ten smiles reassuringly, seemingly having read his mind as he pats his shoulder. “Just taking it all in, you know? It’s beautiful. Really cold, though.”

“Unfortunately, your days of hellish heat 365 days a year are over, Chittapon,” Johnny tuts primly, adopting a scholarly tone, but he takes his gloves off and pushes them into Ten’s hand without looking. Ten raises an eyebrow.

“And your days of being allergic to kindness seem to be over, _Youngho_ ,” Ten returns with ease, slipping the gloves on. Johnny laughs despite the creeping feeling of being discovered stirring in his stomach and then slings an arm around Mark. Weirdly enough, it doesn’t feel quite right, and that’s when Johnny realizes it’s because Mark’s gotten taller.

When he takes a good look at him, he realizes that he’s changed quite a bit, but Johnny hasn’t really noticed because they see each other everyday. Mark’s eyes are just as big, but his cheeks have lost some of their baby fat, and his smile is more confident. He’s not as scrawny anymore, hours of dancing putting some muscle on him, and he’s gotten maybe an inch taller.

“You’re growing up on me, Mark Lee,” Johnny initially plans to say it like it’s a joke, but it comes out more wistful. It’s a little gross.

“I can’t be a baby forever,” Mark sniffs, pulling his hat over his reddening ears. He’d never been good at receiving any kind of praise, and Johnny’s glad that hasn’t changed. “If Hyuck ends up growing faster than me, he’d never listen to me.”

Ah, yes. The supposed spawn of Satan had quickly become fast friends with Mark, their differences apparently not enough to keep them from spending every minute together. It’s nice to see Mark finally making friends his own age, exasperatedly miserable as he seems most days (at the end of the day, Johnny knows it’s all one big act, he’s never seen two people so adamant on being labelled as enemies when they’d very clearly kill for each other).

“I’m always gonna see you as a baby, that’s how I met you,” Johnny laughs when Mark swats his arm away, whining _hyung_ and moving to walk beside Ten instead, cheeks reddening.

“I was almost 14,” Mark mutters under his breath, and Ten laughs at that, ruffling his hair. Ahead of them, the restaurant comes into view.

They spend their time exchanging laughter and untold stories tucked into a small booth in the corner, watching the snow sparkle through the glass beside them. Aromas of comfort food that Johnny hasn’t been able to eat in months make his mouth water and he nearly flips the table when the waiter places their bowls in front of them.

The steam fogs up a small part of the glass and Johnny notices Mark lifting a finger, eyes sparkling, before he seems to think better of it and turns to his food. Johnny nudges him gently and leans over to draw in a smiley face, it’s worth his broth-drenched sleeve to see the smile on Mark’s face.

“Beat me to it next time,” Johnny shakes his head disapprovingly. He shares a look with Ten over his spoon and tries to hold back a grin at the fond look in his eyes.

It’s nice, the only way Johnny can describe it, really.

In Chicago, he wouldn’t have been hanging out with his friends at some obscure restaurant on a Monday afternoon, and one of said friends would definitely _not_ be four years younger than him, but there are pros to living the life they do, and one of those pros is making all kinds of friends, ages insignificant when so much more binds you together. 

Ten is chiding Mark for making excessive slurping noises and Mark is shooting something back about Ten only pretending to care about manners because they’re out in public and Johnny just watches them with a helpless sort of look on his face. A good kind of helpless. The kind of helpless that says _I can’t help but love this anyways_ , he stares for a beat too long, because Ten is quick to narrow his eyes at him.

“What’s that look about? Don’t tell me you agree with the little monster.”

It’s a chance, and Johnny takes it.

“Just thinking about how it would be good if this lasted for a long time.” Mark is still staring at him all funny. “Us, I mean.”

At that, Mark’s cheeks bunch all the way up and he suddenly looks exactly like the kid Johnny had seen when he’d first arrived to Korea. His smile is contagious and soon enough, Ten is grinning just as big, just as cheesy.

“Aw, Johnny, you love us that much? Want us around forever and ever and ever?” Ten teases, mirth pooling in his eyes easily. Johnny huffs out something about mistakes and never telling them anything again and is just about to ask for the bill when Mark shuffles closer to him, clutching his sleeve and tugging on it lightly (a very Mark way of showing affection).

“I think it’d be good too. We’ll make it happen, Johnny.” Something squeezes his heart and he’s reminded again why it was Mark Lee, why he holds the very first space deep inside Johnny somewhere.

Ten reaches across to pat his hand once in silent agreement, and then says the food is on him today before whisking all of them up and away. It’s all very ephemeral, but Johnny can tell that he’s just been promised something quite the opposite, so he brushes it all to the back of his mind and hopes that in a few years from now, he’ll be able to look back on it warmly.

“You know,” Johnny tries again as Ten takes out his wallet to pay, “you should take a picture to send home to your family. Get them jealous.”

A light bulb seems to go off in Ten’s head, and he grabs a waiter that’s passing by and pulls her outside along with them.

“Do you mind taking a picture of us with the snow in the background?”

Mark crinkles his nose in distaste, Johnny knows he’s in the phase where he hates getting his pictures taken. He can already sense the complaints on the tip of Mark’s tongue, so he pulls them both into his sides before he can say anything.

“Say cheese!” He exclaims, and the waiter takes the picture.

Ten thanks her and grabs his phone, grinning at Johnny and Mark. “I’ll send them this, a picture of my family here to a picture of my family there. Good?”

Johnny’s stomach flips. He nods. “Cool.”

One foot in the doorstep, Johnny can tell that something has happened in the time that the three of them were gone. All the other trainees that stay in the dorm with them are gathered in the living room, backlit with the soft light streaming in from between the cracks of the thick curtains.

Some of them are crying and Johnny doesn’t know what the problem is but he’s instantly bracing himself for the worst when he moves to place his hand on the shoulder of whoever’s closest. It turns out to be Taeyong.

Behind him, Johnny knows that Ten has stilled, that he’s gripping Mark’s arm with that specific amount of pressure he applies whenever he’s trying to offer comfort, support.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” Johnny’s pulse is frantic now. It’s not possible that they were all suddenly cut, is it? Was this the end? Would he be packing his bags to leave for Chicago in a few days?

But then Taeyong is turning to look at him with shining eyes and they hold so much more life than Johnny has come to expect in the past few months of whispered promises that never quite seem to amount to anything solid and certain, and when he opens his mouth, it’s to choke out a handful of words that Johnny knows will be seared into the back of his skull the moment he hears them.

“Hyung, everyone you see in this room is officially a part of the SM Rookies.”

Johnny feels his entire body tingle with something unknown and it takes quite a few seconds until he registers that it’s excitement, happiness, _giddiness_. They’re such rarities of emotions that Johnny has to take a minute, let his hand slip off Taeyong’s shoulder, stare at the carpet under his feet, tell himself over and over and over again that this is real—this is actually, finally, real.

Standing up, he turns on his heel, a little slack-jawed, to face Ten and Mark, who look just as shocked, if not more so.

Then, the seemingly impossible happens. Mark’s face screws up and he falls to the ground, loud, heaving sobs wracking his body. Looking back, Johnny will learn to attach a sort of wonder to the memory. He’ll recount that it’s the only time he’s ever seen the great Mark Lee cry—but right now, it’s terrifying, seeing him fall apart so easily, and Johnny is there in an instant. He kneels and places a hesitant hand on Mark’s back, and it’s enough for Mark to crawl half onto him and shove his face into the crook of Johnny’s neck.

Mark feels so incredibly small in Johnny’s hold and it’s enough for tears to prick at his own eyes.

“It felt like nothing,” Mark manages to say between stuttering breaths into his ear, and Johnny awkwardly pats Mark’s hair in attempt to soothe him, murmuring _I know, I know._ When Mark’s small, barely teenaged hands clench the back of his puffer jacket, it takes everything in him not to burst into tears.

“But this,” Mark chokes out, “this is everything.”

Johnny looks up at Ten, who’s staring at them with something warm and safe nestled in his eyes, and the moment they lock gazes he grins, letting out a barely contained laugh of disbelief. His cheeks are flushed, either from the cold or excitement (or maybe a mixture of both) and as Johnny takes him in, he thinks this is probably what it looks like to be high on happiness.

Ten barks out another laugh, his legs give under him and he falls onto a chair, running a hand through his hair.

“SM Rookies,” Ten almost breathes out, like the words have coated his tongue with gold.

“SM Rookies,” Johnny confirms, reaching out with one hand to squeeze Ten’s.

On December 2nd, 2013, Johnny’s dream inches closer to him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> can johnny get a found family? can johnny PLEASE get a found family?

Officially, they’re announced as SM Rookies to the world through the month of December. Taeyong and Jeno are announced on the 2nd, right before midnight. Seven days later, it’s Jaehyun. On the 16th, Hansol, Jisung and Mark are presented. And then, finally, on the 23rd of December, the world finally knows about Yuta and Ten and Johnny.

There are others, and amongst the others there are four others in particular who don’t feel very much ‘other’. Mark worries, they all do, and by extension, Johnny finds himself worrying a little, too.

 _Just give it some time,_ he tells them. For the first time, they don’t sound like empty words.

The initial waves they make are tremendous, and the expectations that come with them even more so. People are already talking about SM Entertainment’s future being balanced precariously on the shoulders of a handful of kids (because really, that’s what they are), and how Lee Sooman is playing with fire by even introducing them to the general public before fixing them in any groups.

‘Risky’ is the word Johnny doesn’t stop seeing and hearing for weeks, plastered across tabloids and whispered between official looking people, but it doesn’t stop him from basking in the exhilaration of finally having his name sent out to the world. Knowing that his practices aren’t all going to be for nothing, not anymore.

On the 31st of December, amongst the implicit tension seeping into the dorm’s couches, rugs, cabinets and residents, Johnny decides that it’s high time they celebrate this new page in their lives. They’re all still reeling from the sheer dream that was SMTOWN Week, but the worry clings to them palpably and Johnny hates seeing it. Just this once, they’re allowed to be happy about what the future holds for them, as fleeting of a feeling as it may be.

In the early morning when fresh snow hasn’t yet begun to fall, the sun is high, and the permanent blankets of white outside sparkle like diamonds, Johnny gathers up Hansol, Taeyong and Yuta in the kitchen.

Technically, Taeyong is responsible for them gathering together so early to cook for the others. He’d been the earliest to express that they needed to unwind and treat themselves to some good food, so, after making quite a few calls to his mother and scouring the internet, he’d devised a plan to cook all the meals at home today.

But Johnny is the one who suggests they take it further, so he likes to think that he deserves some of the credit too.

Hansol is whipping up some eggs while Yuta sits on the counter with his legs crossed, focused on peeling an onion. Taeyong is muttering something about kimchi as he shifts containers around in the fridge, and Johnny doesn’t want to be the one to tell him that the younger kids had eaten most of it as a late night snack a few days ago (and Johnny, being Johnny, had been too weak to tell them off).

It's a small kitchen, especially considering the amount of people that live in the dorm, but surprisingly, it never feels uncomfortable even with the four of them constantly bumping elbows and having to twist and bend to avoid landing any critical hits. They settle into a comfortable rhythm quite naturally, and as soon as Johnny moves from cutting the short ribs to cleaning them, he makes his proposition known.

“I think we should have a New Year’s Party. Tonight.”

Hansol turns to Johnny and raises a skeptical eyebrow, “I’m not saying it’s a bad idea, but don’t we need to prepare for those kinds of things? Like, more than a few hours before they happen?”

He brings a hot spoonful of some sort of soup he has going on the back burner and hisses, seemingly burning his tongue. Johnny frowns.

Being the oldest, Hansol is the unmovable voice of reason, and usually Johnny is glad that someone like him is around to help the three of them guide the others as best they can, but right now, Johnny wishes Hansol would let the other side of him take over, the one that’s barely 19 and has the desire to let loose a little.

“But hyung, we’re _SM Rookies_ , we’ve gotta celebrate! It’s now or never, you know that once we’re a few days into the new year work is gonna be hell,” Taeyong, sitting on the floor, nudges Johnny’s calf, reminding him to keep working on the meat, he’d turned away from it for the sake of exaggerating his passionate speech.

Yuta, still on the counter, puts his pieces of onion into a hand grinder. As he turns the crank, he looks up and winks at Johnny with a grin, “I think it would be nice. I mean, what kind of SM Rookies wouldn’t be able to throw together a party in a few hours?”

He turns on Hansol, wicked smile on his face, “Or are you just not cut out to be one, hyung?”

Hansol rolls his eyes at that, too used to having his buttons pushed by the likes of Yuta. Johnny appreciates the effort, nonetheless. Hansol stirs the soup and purses his lips in thought before looking to Taeyong, who’s grating radish like he’s being paid for it.

“Yong-ah,” Hansol calls. Johnny prays Taeyong is on his side. Although he would never admit it, Hansol’s always had a soft spot for him. “What do you think?”

Taeyong pauses his grating and looks around the kitchen like he hasn’t even been listening to the conversation, he catches Johnny’s eyes and Johnny instantly pumps out a nuanced, “Yeah, _Yong-ah,_ what do you think?”

The nickname is one only Hansol ever uses, an unofficial badge of sorts declaring (in a lowkey, trademark Hansol manner) that Taeyong does in fact take up a special place in his heart. The message is clear, manipulative as it may be. There’s a few beats of Johnny trying to discreetly communicate his urgency until finally, he seems to crack.

Taeyong sighs in defeat and addresses Hansol, “Everyone could benefit from it, I guess. The kids, especially, have been kind of stressed out. It’ll be fun, hyung.”

Hansol softens, and Yuta shares a mixed look of amusement and exasperation with Johnny. _Can you believe this guy?_ “Alright, we’ll do it. Get everyone to help, Youngho.”

Johnny frowns at this, he’d wanted it to be a surprise, and he’s just about to voice as such when Hansol reads his mind.

“It won’t work if it’s just us preparing everything,” he reasons, then smiles warmly when Johnny does a terrible job at hiding his disappointment. “It’ll still be really fun! They’ll love it, I swear.”

All conversation halts when footsteps are heard from down the hall and everyone stops mid-task to witness a sleepy Jisung waddling out in all his 11-year-old glory (but he insists that he’s only two months away from being 12 so everyone should just think of him as 12, seriously, what was it with kids and insisting they weren’t their age). His hair is sticking up, mussed from sleep, and his eyes are practically closed as he stumbles into the kitchen.

Johnny smiles at him, trying to look as non-threatening as possible because he knows from Taeyong that Jisung still finds him a little intimidating, and Jisung smiles back hesitantly, cheeks bunching up into little pouches. He collapses onto the floor beside Taeyong and snuggles into his side, something he’d never do if he wasn’t so sleepy.

Taeyong instantly takes off his gloves and wraps an arm around the boy, ruffling his hair.

“Hyung, what’s going on,” Jisung mumbles sleepily, and Johnny swears he sees everyone’s hearts grow ten times fonder. Yuta is trying not to let it show, but Hansol has abandoned all pretenses, staring at them unabashedly with a warm smile on his face. And Taeyong, well, Taeyong’s always been much too fond of the younger trainees. It’s written in everything he does.

They’re far from being tiny little kids, but something about being thrown into the industry so young softens their edges and paints them in a more vulnerable light. Johnny has never been one to baby his younger cousins back home, but even he’ll admit that some sort of protective instinct surges in him when he sees Mark, Donghyuck, Jeno, Jaemin or Jisung.

Johnny watches them all exchange words and then Taeyong guides Jisung to the couch, throwing a blanket on him and murmuring something about waiting for a while longer. When the smell of their breakfast floats through the air, luring the kids out one by one as they stumble through their sleep-filled hazes, and the sunlight pours in through the window, a rare bout of heat on a cold winter morning, Johnny allows himself to consider, just for a moment, that this what family feels like. 

He knows he shouldn’t let himself indulge in it for too long, because people have been ripped away from him far too often, but something inside of him screams that he wants this to last, and he wants it to last for a long, long time.

The first few of months of 2014 are spent, predictably, in a strange mix of uncontained chaos, exhaustion, and excitement.

Schedules become a thing and as tiring as they are, Johnny can’t help but feel a thrill each time he learns that every hour of his day is planned with some sort of activity. It’s a sample of the life he knows is closer than ever before and he has absolutely no qualms about his aching muscles and sleepless nights, not when the future tastes so sweet.

Between learning and perfecting a ton of new choreographies with the other guys and receiving more vocal, variety and PR training than ever, Johnny glimpses a new face. He says his name is Jungwoo, and everything about him reminds Johnny of flower petals and cotton candy. Of course, he never voices this. A curt nod and clipped introduction is all he manages before turning back to his own tasks.

Maybe it’s instinctual, at this point, the need to keep his distance.

This time though, Ten is there by his side, sending him a look of disapproval and pushing him back to Jungwoo, spinning him around, pulling something friendlier and more authentic from somewhere inside of him for the new trainee to see. Anyone can see that Jungwoo is inherently more nervous than most, so yeah, it feels nice when, after a few minutes of talking, Johnny is graced with a real smile from him. But he’ll never tell Ten, especially after they walk away and Ten sends him a knowing smirk.

Ten remains a constant. Johnny still struggles to allow himself to show that he cares about all the others, the people who he can safely say that he considers friends, but it’s easy with Ten.

Well, a little crazy, maybe, because Ten is just about the most spontaneous person Johnny’s ever had the pleasure of knowing, but easy nonetheless.

Easy in the way that Johnny doesn’t think twice before agreeing to Ten’s impulsive late-night convenience store runs, mind barely wandering to the possibilities of being chewed out by any company staff.

Easy in the way that laughter becomes a third language that Johnny fluently slips into when Ten says anything at all, even if it’s something that, coming from anyone else, Johnny might’ve merely brushed off or ignored entirely.

Easy in the way that he knows, with Ten, it could never be anything but.

Winter passes by in the blink of an eye, and most of spring even faster. It shouldn’t exactly come as a surprise, but when Johnny walks out of the company building for the first time in weeks just to feel a pleasant warmth beating down from above and the faint scent of cherry blossoms in the air, he has to pause and blink.

A slap on his back jolts him out of his mild reverie and Ten’s name is already on the tip of his tongue accompanying the faux-look of annoyance he immediately dons, but Doyoung beats him to it.

“Ten!” He cries, reminiscent of the way Johnny’s mom used to say his name when he said something out of line in the middle of a mall or grocery store.

Unbothered by Doyoung’s obvious distress, Ten rolls his eyes and snaps his fingers in front of Johnny’s face. “We don’t have all day, you can sniff the air like a dog later, let’s _go_ already.”

It’s been a grand total of thirty seconds since they stepped out the building.

Johnny pulls a face, “You’re never this mean to anyone but me. Jaehyun isn’t even out of the building yet and you decide that I’m the one who deserves assault?”

Ten snickers and Doyoung swivels between the two of them with poorly concealed bewilderment. Johnny tries to pay it no mind, but he can’t help be a little bothered when Doyoung looks like he’d been expecting Johnny to do something insane like yell at Ten in the middle of the street for a friendly pat on the back.

Well, Johnny supposes as he feels a slight sting between his shoulder blades, maybe it was a little too violent to be considered friendly. But still.

There’s a reason he’s spending some free time with Ten _and_ Doyoung and Jaehyun, though. Johnny just hopes they all know each other a little better by the time they’re done. He knows how closed off he can seem most of the time, how most people would recall their initial impressions of him with epithets like reserved, cold, serious, intimidating.

And yet, there’s a sort of burn in the pit of his stomach, something akin to shame, at noticing Doyoung’s surprise at seeing him act like, well, himself.

Jaehyun pops up behind the three of them with a sheepish grin directed at Doyoung, “Sorry I’m late, but did I just hear the word assault?”

“Yeah, you did,” Doyoung mutters without elaborating, still looking at Johnny cautiously.

Ten taps his foot impatiently on the ground and Johnny doesn’t have time to feel unnerved under Doyoung’s gaze because Ten declares, rather loudly, “Alright, we’ve lost enough time, people. Let’s _go._ ”

Because they all have schedules later in the day, they’re out incredibly early—which is probably why Ten seems to be pushing all of them to their absolute limits, jumping from place to place without rest in order to see and do as much as possible.

In just a few hours, Johnny’s been completely annihilated by a very smug Jaehyun at a bowling alley, taken just about a million pictures of Ten and Doyoung at a botanical garden, and consumed way too much sugar from a cute little breakfast place tucked into a quiet corner. All at ass o’clock in the morning.

(He limits his complaints though, if only because he can see the way Doyoung and Jaehyun start to loosen up around him. Jaehyun especially, who Johnny discovers is a lot more of an interesting character than the picture his charming looks paint.)

Eventually, though, Johnny does reign Ten in and convince him to relax at the Han River. Of course, the minute they’ve arrived Ten shoots Johnny a not so discreet wink that makes him inwardly groan and pulls on Jaehyun’s elbow, throwing something out about grabbing snacks before he disappears, leaving Johnny alone with Doyoung.

Johnny draws a half-assed parallel between Donghyuck and Ten and finally sees why they get along so well. He avoids Doyoung’s eyes as they lower themselves onto the grass, letting out a forced sigh of relief as he awkwardly tries to save the mood. It would’ve been a little easier with Jaehyun, at least they had some things in common. But Johnny knows that’s exactly why Ten left him with Doyoung in the first place.

Well. The conversation isn’t going to make itself. “Jesus, I think I explored more of Seoul today than I have in the last four years.”

Doyoung chuckles and it warms Johnny up from the inside, the carefree sound echoing in his head. Maybe he isn’t doomed to be completely unreachable after all.

“We have Ten to thank for that,” Doyoung pauses and turns his head to peer at Johnny curiously, and Johnny tries not to feel like he’s a specimen underneath a microscope. It’s not easy, with Doyoung’s piercing eyes. “You know, hyung, I don’t think I ever saw you go anywhere before you met Ten. What gives? Especially today.”

It’s frank in a way that intimidates Johnny, which is weird because Johnny’s a pretty frank person himself. Is this how everyone feels around him all the time? It’s exhausting.

“Well, I don’t… know. I just realized it’s fun to go out and do stuff, I guess.” Being so focused on debuting doesn’t leave a lot of time for personal entertainment, but Ten had managed to show him a balance, somehow. “And honestly, I don’t really know a lot of you guys that well so I thought it might be nice to be friendlier? With each other?”

Doyoung, gratefully, doesn’t seem to care that Johnny sounds like an idiot, a thoughtful expression blooming on his face as he watches the river flow. “True enough, I suppose. You’re not _not_ friendly though, just so you know. I know you’re close with the hyungs. Relatively. And you don’t seem that hard to warm up to.”

He can’t help but playfully scoff at that, “Weren’t you, like, scared of me just this morning?”

Doyoung coughs a little, sitting up straighter. “Maybe—”

Johnny laughs.

“ _Maybe_ , but I’m not anymore. So my point stands. You can’t blame me though, you’ve been around forever and you’re big and tall. Plus, you’ve got resting mad face or something. But it’s easy to see that you’re not as bad as you look, especially when you’re with Ten.”

Any jokes about looking ugly die in the back of his throat. A warm gust of breeze sweeps through the air as he folds his legs up so he can hug them. He laughs again, a little awkwardly this time. “What does that mean?”

“Oh, just that you’re crazy different around him.”

He doesn’t elaborate, seemingly a trademark of Kim Doyoung, and they sit in semi-comfortable silence, Johnny’s brain working overtime, until Ten and Jaehyun creep up on them with ramen steaming in their hands.

On some level, he’s always known that everything is different when it comes to Ten. Still, hearing it coming from someone else like it’s the most obvious thing in the world strikes a chord in Johnny. It shakes him up, strikes a chord somewhere dark and tucked away and buzzes through him until he can’t think about anything else.

Summer begins and wears on until the SM Rookies are cordially integrated into the idol scene.

Much to Mark’s delight, although he’ll never admit it, Donghyuck is announced the second week of July and just a few days later, an introductory video is released starring the two of them. Taeyong gets something like a fraction of a song, but it’s still incredible to see. Everything is.

Along with everything else, the performance video that Johnny had filmed with Hansol and Taeyong a while back is finally revealed, and it sparks major buzz about the _talented_ Rookie Boys, the _handsome_ Rookie Boys, the _potential_ of the Rookie Boys.

He shouldn’t be reading comments, he knows that. He’s had one too many conversations with Sehun about the damage that comes with delving in too deep, but he can’t help it when it’s the first time the world is seeing more than just his face.

He spends hours on end going through YouTube, scouring the comments hoping to see the familiar letters forming his name. Unsurprisingly, it pops up less than Taeyong’s or Hansol’s and Johnny tries telling himself that it’s okay, that he knew this would happen. But just because you know you’re going to scrape your knee as you’re falling to the ground doesn’t mean the wound is going to sting any less.

Hansol’s dancing is praised to be a dancer’s dream, a paradise of technical finesse. His looks attract attention too, the stereotypical Korean ideal. Taeyong’s natural charisma catches thousands of eyes, some even predict he’ll be the leader of whatever new group they might form.

Johnny, on the other hand, is praised a little for his hair, as well as his build, and that’s all there is to it, really. He re-watches the video, making sure that he wasn’t hidden in the shadows the entire time. After the seventh time, he gives up.

It isn’t the video’s fault, he just doesn’t attract as much attention as the other boys.

Out of seemingly nowhere, fear starts to churn in his gut at the thought. Not being as popular practically translated to being unpopular, and unpopularity could lead to getting kicked off the team, to SM deciding that they don’t want to invest in a trainee who won’t even be well-received by the public.

In the middle of his mini crisis on the living room couch, iPad playing the video on loop in his hands, Jungwoo appears and pauses halfway to the kitchen, observing the way Johnny’s staring ahead at nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, Johnny sees Jungwoo carefully approaching, sitting next to him, gently prying the iPad away from his hands, but Johnny can’t seem to fucking _move_ so he just sits there and lets it happen.

“Hyung?” Jungwoo says gently. Johnny feels his eyes fill with water and he melts, sinking back into the couch and covering his face with his hands so that Jungwoo, of all people, can’t see him cry about absolutely nothing.

“Youngho hyung, it’s okay.”

And Jungwoo can’t possibly promise something like that without knowing anything, but the fact that he still says it so firmly, with as much force behind it as his soft voice can muster—it’s enough to let Johnny cry freely until his breath hitches in rhythm with Jungwoo’s hand rubbing up and down his back comfortingly.

“You know,” Jungwoo starts quietly, “I doubt myself all the time. Everyone here is just so good, I don’t know how I even made it here. I’m just—I’m just me.”

And he goes on like that for a while, telling Johnny about all his fears and insecurities, all the times he’s felt like he wasn’t good enough, like he’s letting precious time slip through his fingers when he could be securing it into something concrete.

But, as Johnny’s breaths even and the pressure between his eyes eases, Jungwoo also talks about how he chooses to believe. He chooses to believe that there’s a reason he got accepted to the company, he chooses to believe he’s good enough to stay, he chooses to believe that one day, this will all be worth it.

“You’ve just gotta believe, hyung,” Jungwoo giggles a little. “Like Naruto. Believe it!”

It’s probably the strangest way he’s ever been comforted, but the point still stands that Johnny has been _comforted_ , so he sniffs and tries to stop the incoming embarrassment from folding him up until he’s completely closed off.

“Thanks, Jungwoo,” he tries saying as sincerely as he can, receiving a pleasant smile in turn. “And, just so you know, you definitely belong here. You’ve got all the makings of an idol, man, don’t be so hard on yourself. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as attuned to perfecting their craft like you, except maybe Mark, but he’s kind of an oddity, that kid.

“You’re… you’re sensitive to what makes a great performer and your heart is so—so willing to make room for people. I think you’d do fine anywhere you go, Jungwoo, but when you do make it up onto that first stage, you’re gonna be incredible.”

The hand on his back slides up to his shoulder to give it an earnest squeeze, and Jungwoo’s eyes shine with gratitude when he whispers, “Thank you, hyung.”

When they part and Johnny steals away to the kitchen to make himself something warm and sweet, he finds Ten sitting on the counter, a funny smile on his face as he takes a sip from his mug.

“You’re something else, Johnny Suh,” is all he says, leaving Johnny to wonder just how long he’d been sitting there.

He doesn’t mean to avoid Ten after that, it just starts happening.

Maybe it’s because he’s now privy to Ten’s audience when he was feeling incredibly vulnerable—Ten, who ties with Taeyong for the trainee most likely to beat everyone out for debut. Whatever it is, Johnny stops swinging by the practice room Ten spends the most time in, then he asks to be scheduled for different vocal class slots, and then that turns into different vocal slots _and_ different language slots, and it all keeps snowballing from there until eventually, Johnny’s schedule looks almost entirely different from Ten’s.

It shouldn’t bother him. It doesn’t. It’s an honest reaction, even if some part of him keeps whispering insistently that Ten is supposed to be the exception, never to be subjected to Johnny’s thick walls of mortar and stone.

He doesn’t let it bother him.

But Ten, unsurprisingly, takes issue with it.

He barges into Johnny’s room with a couple hours left in 2014 with the dramatic flair of a seasoned theatre geek (Johnny can say this because it’s true, he weaseled it out of Ten two weeks into knowing him). Johnny startles, dropping his phone and effectively breaking his Facebook-induced zombie-like state.

“Why do you hate me?” He demands, apropos of nothing. Johnny’s mouth drops open stupidly.

“Where did you get that idea?” He asks, peering at Ten like he’s crazy. Ten’s not the only one with a dramatic flair. “I don’t hate you, Ten. Geez.”

Ten barks out a laugh, throwing back his head to let out one clear “HA” that resonates throughout the room before he crosses his arms across his chest and pulls his expression back into one of judgement (scarily fast, might Johnny add). “Why have you been avoiding me, then?”

Busted. He takes in a deep breath, slowly so he can buy time before he has to speak, but Ten narrows his eyes threateningly and Johnny gives in, throwing his hands up into the air as a sign of defeat. “Fine! I didn’t mean to. I swear, it just happened.”

“Right,” Ten drawls disbelievingly, although he looks more placated at the admission already. It never was as easy for someone to _stay_ on Ten’s nerves as it was to get on them. “Because schedules just magically change themselves.”

Johnny winces. How did he even figure that one out?

“Whatever,” Ten dismisses quickly with a growing grin, “you’ll just have to make it up to me.”

Okay, first of all, _no._ Johnny is well-acquainted with _that_ voice. _That_ voice is the one that got Johnny to sneak out with Ten on his first day as a trainee to watch a movie together (they were, of course, properly chewed out when the staff caught wind of their little excursion). _That_ voice is the one that always gets them caught up in a web of lies and, eventually, harsh consequences.

 _That_ voice is also the one that, unfortunately, manages to send exhilaration shooting up his spine every. Single. Time.

Shit.

“Okay,” Johnny starts cautiously, “and what—what does that mean, exactly?

Ten ignores him to dig his phone out of his sweatpants, checking the screen briefly before grinning and dropping it back into his pocket. “Perfect! We have time!”

“Ten—”

“Put some clothes on. Some _nice_ clothes, please, Johnny. Coming to get you in 15.” Before Johnny can make to grab Ten’s wrist or defend his very tasteful fashion choices, he’s skipping out the door, thundering down the hall while yelling Jaehyun’s name.

Johnny slumps back against the wall, staring his wardrobe down as he crosses his arms over his chest. No. No way is he getting sucked into Ten’s antics again. It’s almost a new year, and Johnny needs to be strong, needs to starting pulling his _hyung_ weight—

“Oh, and Johnny?” Johnny whips his head to the door, where Ten’s made a reappearance, a simple, sweet smile on his face. “I missed you.”

With that, he leaves again.

Johnny swears, begrudgingly getting up to put together the best outfit he possibly can considering his 10-dollar wardrobe.

He’ll just have to try being strong again next year.

In retrospect, it’d probably been stupid of Johnny to blindly put his trust in Ten, let him lead the group of them wherever he pleased without asking a single question about their final destination. Alas.

“No. Absolutely not, Ten. We’re going home. Like, right now.”

The neon sign hanging over the night club casts a purple glow on the pavement, and loud, borderline inhumane noises blare incessantly from the inside, only getting louder when someone steps out and the door swings open for a few seconds.

Jesus, they’re _so_ dead.

“Oh, lighten up!” Ten chirps.

Lighten up? They could get fired for something like this, or worse, it could come back to bite them in the ass after debut. Falling from the ground is worlds apart from falling off a pedestal, and Johnny knows that none of them could walk away from a fall so large without at least a couple of broken bones.

Someone loud and very drunk seems to want to walk past them, but he slows down near Taeyong, giving him a lewd onceover with unfocused eyes. Anger, hot and bubbling, shoots through him as Taeyong grips Hansol’s arm tighter, stepping closer to him. Johnny is just about to say something, but Yuta steps in with a stony expression, completely blocking Taeyong from the man.

“Keep walking.”

Thankfully, Yuta’s chilling voice cuts through the man’s inebriated haze and he moves on with a sneer, but it doesn’t do anything to quell the newfound worries Johnny has about being here. When he looks to Ten, his eyes are on Taeyong, concerned, and Johnny almost gets out a mild iteration of _I told you so_ , but Ten beats him to it.

“We’ll stick together, I promise,” he says, firm.

Johnny sighs, turning to Taeil weakly. “Hyung, talk him out of this.”

But Taeil’s eyes have never held so much life, lights reflecting off his irises like he’s incapable of seeing anything other than the club. He’s always been a bit of a partier, stifled by trainee life, and usually, Johnny would fall into step easily with him. Just, not like this. Not when there’s so much to lose.

He turns to his original trio, the three people he befriended properly after his two exceptions, the ones he knows will always back him up, always be on the same wavelength.

Hansol is saying something to Taeyong, who nods and smiles, almost eagerly despite the uncomfortable run-in only moments ago. Yuta’s already getting his wallet out. Right. Clearly, they weren’t going to be much help. At least Jaehyun hadn’t ended up tagging along, saying something about beauty sleep. Johnny can’t even imagine what kind of trouble a minor would get into. Small mercies.

“This is gonna be great,” Ten promises, bright smile creeping back up as he starts walking backwards. The group follows like they’ve got inbuilt Ten magnets, and Johnny is helpless to trail after them, if only in the hopes of making them reconsider last second. Ten keeps his eyes on Johnny. “Absolutely monumental!”

“Ten, you’re not even legal,” Johnny says, exasperated.

“They won’t care about that here. I’m legal at midnight, and that’s all that matters.”

Johnny glances at Taeyong for confirmation, who gives him a small smile and nods, shrugging as if to say, _hey, what are you gonna do?_

Ten holds the door open, ushering everyone through one by one, but Johnny stops before he sets foot inside, levelling Ten with another weighted look. “You—”

“No. You said you’d make it up to me.”

Of course, his brain has never been the auto-pilot for his actions, so Johnny melts immediately. Ten isn’t wrong, after all. Recognizing a fallen soldier when he sees one, he beams and shoves Johnny through the door.

“Trust me, hyung.” Ten squeezes his shoulder once, clearly meaning to reassure him. And, well, it’s not like he’s asking for much, Johnny relinquishes.

Aside from the choking fear that someone will find out what they’re doing and effectively clip their wings before they even get the chance to fly, instantaneously cutting the dream they’ve all dreamt for years short in a few seconds.

Sure, no biggie.

Besides, Johnny’s always trusted Ten. He couldn’t unlearn it now even if he tried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if any of you are in grade 11 and thinking about taking calculus next year. don't <3

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. do people actually buy groceries from target?? im canadian so idek lskdjn  
> 2\. yes there will be minor side markhyuck, who do i look like?????
> 
> (tell me if there are any mistakes! i don't have a beta lmao)


End file.
